"
"Oh, read the letter," said Sir Lulworth impatiently.
"It's a long rambling affair, like most of his letters in his later
years," said Egbert. "I'll read the part that bears immediately on the
mystery.
"'I very much fear I shall have to get rid of Sebastien. He cooks
divinely, but he has the temper of a fiend or an anthropoid ape, and I am
really in bodily fear of him. We had a dispute the other day as to the
correct sort of lunch to be served on Ash Wednesday, and I got so
irritated and annoyed at his conceit and obstinacy that at last I threw a
cupful of coffee in his face and called him at the same time an impudent
jackanapes. Very little of the coffee went actually in his face, but I
have never seen a human being show such deplorable lack of self-control.
I laughed at the threat of killing me that he spluttered out in his rage,
and thought the whole thing would blow over, but I have several times
since caught him scowling and muttering in a highly unpleasant fashion,
and lately I have fancied that he was dogging my footsteps about the
grounds, particularly when I walk of an evening in the Italian Garden.'
"It was on the steps in the Italian Garden that the body was found,"
commented Egbert, and resumed reading.
"'I daresay the danger is imaginary; but I shall feel more at ease when
he has quitted my service.'"
Egbert paused for a moment at the conclusion of the extract; then, as his
uncle made no remark, he added: "If lack of motive was the only factor
that saved Sebastien from prosecution I fancy this letter will put a
different complexion on matters.
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